Michelle Roofe

'Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.' The small group of mourners - mostly close friends - looked on solemnly as the pastor committed her body to the ground. There was little doubt that Thelma's susceptibility to the cancer that killed her after the biblical three-score-and-ten years on earth had been hereditary: her mother, father, four aunts, and several cousins on her mother's side had all died from it.

Thelma was my sister. She was three years older than me and quite outspoken as a child.

I remember Mama flogging her once for hissing her teeth after our mother had told her to sweep the yard. Thelma was ten then.

Mama was mostly peeved by her frankness, but at other times she would send her to collect the money from Mrs. Jones for a dress she had made for her. I always went along with my sister on these journeys. Thelma would meet Mrs. Jones with a serious look and announce that Mamahad sent her to collect the money. Mrs. Jones would frown at Thelma, and mumble something inaudible. But she gave her the money. People, I saw, were a little scared of Mama's young messenger.

At 13 Thelma began her own business - sewing and selling clothes for dolls. She had mastered this skill while helping Mama to stitch children's shorts that were then sold on the street, downtown. She was good at it, and her classmates would meet her at the school gate in the mornings to order, fit the sample dresses, or pay for them. Thelma must have done okay because sometimes, when Mama was broke, she would buy and cook a simple meal for us. Other times she stayed home and helped Mama make clothes.

So it was no surprise that, soon after leaving school, Thelma registered for Lady Madam's School of Fashion. The course fee was another challenge faced by our family. Thelma, unknown to Mama, started washing the neighbours' clothes, and baby-sitting for those who were willing to pay. And she saved the money.

One sunny Monday this was revealed to Mama when Mrs. Isda came to talk with Thelma, and Mama insisted on knowing what Mrs. Isda wanted to see her daughter about.

'Well, wi neighbours all praising har fi the good job she a do,' Mrs. Isda said proudly. 'So Maas Joe and me want little Thelma fi wash fi wi.'

'Wash fi yuh?' Mama shouted. It sounded more like a cry of pain than a question.

After Mrs. Isda left, Thelma had a lot of explaining to do. But in the end Mama hugged her and they both cried.

128A Waltham Park Road was where it really started for her. I remember the inside of the shop - two cutting boards, three showcases, and three old Singer sewing machines, given to her by Mama and close friends. A few friends and I helped her decorate the place.

Thelma's Designing Shop. That's what the sign read, but it was more a dressmaking shop which sold accessories and ready-made clothes for ladies and children. After the business started, I would stop by after school and help to stitch sides of unfinished clothes or to hem a dress or skirt, or, at other times, just to be around my sister. The business grew steadily as Mama began sending all her church sisters. Even the pastor's wife was a regular customer.

Thelma began to complain about needing someone who understood how to run a business to help with the paperwork and the financial side. Neither she nor I knew much about that, so we began searching. Mama recommended one of her church sister's son, Robert. We had known Robert for as long as we could remember going to Church of God of Prophecy on Maxfield Avenue. And Robert was now a graduate of Kingston College, with passes in six subjects, including accounts and principles of business.

He was unemployed and familiar with the clothing business. His dad had been a tailor for many years, and he, like my sister, had learned the business. At first Thelma had her doubts about his capabilities, but soon after she employed him her business was more organised.

Four years later they began hanging out. He invited her to church once, and she became a regular. Robert was actively involved in the church: a member of the youth choir, an usher, and a member of the Bible studies class. They courted for a few years before tying the knot and moving into a two-bedroom house in Pembroke Hall, off the Boulevard.

There were times when national elections, riots and acts of nature, such as hurricanes or storms, caused us to close the business for days, sometimes for a week or two. And it was during one of these misfortunes that Robert suggested to my sister that she supply clothes to the bigger apparel businesses.

'You really think that they would want to buy what I sew?' she asked him, through a mouthful of rice at Mama's house.

'Thelma, just try it, all right?' Then he asked me: 'June, what you think?'

I told him I thought it was a good idea.

After that we supplied Lerner Shop, Ammars, Amart and Kids R Us. I went on to have two children, twins, Andrew and Andrene, while my sister and her husband kept trying also to have children, but without luck. They went on trying even when Thelma had passed child-bearing age. Then they gave up and took my children as their own.

Over time I grew to learn the ins and outs of the business. Thelma began taking occasional trips overseas, to America, to visit with friends and shop for the business. Sometimes, especially during the festive seasons, Robert would accompany her.

Then Mama passed away. She had been ill for a while with multiple illnesses - arthritis, high blood pressure, diabetes, and, the most dreaded, breast cancer.

We sold Mama's house and used to money to open another store in Cross Roads, opposite Empire Supermarket. Later, after completing a correspondence course in designing, I became its new manager.

All this was many years ago. A day came when Thelma, while showering, discovered a lump the size of a pea tucked close to her armpit, just below the crease of her breast.

One evening, just after we had closed the shop, she beckoned me to her house.

'June, I found a lump in my left breast ...'

'What? Thelma, a hope a nuh cancer!' I wailed, cutting into her sentence.

'The doctor told me it's mastitis,' she explained, 'and it can be treated.'

'What's that?'

Thelma told me that she wasn't sure, but it was nothing to worry about, the doctor had said.

After that, though, my sister's health deteriorated, resulting in her making many visits to the hospital, one of which left her with only one breast. She often sank into depression and became withdrawn and moody, complaining of the pain she regularly felt.

These later changes started after she was told by her doctor that the cancer had travelled too extensively in her body to be mastered by surgery, drugs or X-rays. The family all stood by her. I assisted Robert with the first store, and did the overseas shopping when Thelma's health prevented her from doing it. For 15 years her health continued slowly to deteriorate.

Last year, just two days after her 70th birthday, at 9:30 p.m. on August 22nd, Thelma succumbed tobreast cancer.

END